One thing never ceases to amaze about the conflicts, bloodshed, and civil strife perpetually roiling the Democratic Republic of Congo (DR Congo): the reluctance of the international community—including Africa—to hold Kinshasa’s government accountable for its role in its own crises. It truly boggles the mind. The individuals in charge of DR Congo, from the president to provincial administrators, are grown adults—men and women with the same faculties as anyone else. Yet, they are consistently held to a far lower standard than other governments. Consider the fundamental duty of any state: ensuring the safety and well-being of all its citizens. If any other government ordered wholesale massacres of a section of its population, the uproar would be immediate and deafening. Western-based rights organisations would issue condemnations, impose sanctions, and demand accountability. But when it comes to the DR Congo, the response is starkly different. There even exist countries—such as Rwanda—that face international outrage, sanctions, or isolation at the slightest rumour of alleged human rights violations, even when such claims are fabricated. Human Rights Watch and the UN Group of Experts on the DR Congo have repeatedly published baseless reports accusing Rwanda of rights abuses—claims that are never proven because they didn’t happen. More often than not, the actual perpetrators are the Congolese military (FARDC) or Kinshasa-backed militias. This is the world we live in—one where double standards and breathtaking hypocrisy, especially from powerful Western states meddling in African affairs, are the norm. However, the case of the DR Congo goes beyond mere hypocrisy; it veers into outright complicity. The Tshisekedi regime has engaged in egregious human rights violations, yet international actors remain silent. President Félix Tshisekedi has openly called for violence against the Tutsi community in eastern DRC, declaring, “Those Tutsis, we will kill them one by one.” His military and allied militias have carried out massacres, displacing countless civilians. And yet, the world’s so-called defenders of human rights remain mute. If any other leader openly incited genocide, the international community would swiftly act. But in Tshisekedi’s case, even the most vocal champions of democracy and human rights fall silent. The reason is clear: their political and economic interests take precedence over justice and human dignity. Even more troubling is the silence of fellow African governments. They watch without protest as Kinshasa-backed militias hunt down civilians, commit gruesome murders, and even engage in acts of cannibalism, all under the pretext that their victims are Rwandan. This silence is not mere negligence—it is complicity. Tshisekedi justifies his campaign against the Tutsi communities of North and South Kivu by falsely labeling them as Rwandan agents. Yet, no one in the international community questions why the Kinshasa government refuses to let them leave with their ancestral lands if they supposedly do not belong. Instead of addressing the crisis through dialogue and political solutions, Tshisekedi behaves like a petulant child, rejecting any reasoning that might lead to peace. The moment the Tutsi communities organized to defend themselves under the M23 banner, the world erupted in condemnation. Western foreign ministries, human rights organizations, and major media outlets unleashed a barrage of criticism against M23, painting them as mere proxies of Rwanda. Journalists like Michela Wrong amplify Kinshasa’s propaganda, drowning out M23’s fundamental message: they are fighting for their rights as Congolese citizens. Meanwhile, genocidaires in exile fuel the narrative, spreading claims that M23 is an extension of the Rwandan military. Yet, M23 has had no choice but to fight on, despite the overwhelming disinformation campaign against them. On Saturday, in Dar es Salaam, however, something remarkable happened. During the joint summit of the East African Community (EAC) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC), a breakthrough emerged: the summit called on the Kinshasa government to engage in talks with M23. For the first time, M23 was not dismissed as an “illegal armed group.” Instead, its legitimacy and the justice of its cause were implicitly acknowledged. Most importantly, the summit signaled that the era of shielding Tshisekedi from accountability—treating him and his government as if they were merely irresponsible children—may be coming to an end. Long may it be so.
